Fitz sat in his window seat looking out onto the tarmac. There was a certain element of risk inherent in every flight, and everything became a simple matter of a cost-benefit analysis. Planes were safer than cars statistically, but cars were more mundane. People used them every day and usually gave no thought to the risk.

However, flight travel tended to be unusual. Take offs and landings could raise some anxieties. Turbulence was both literally and figuratively jarring to the unprepared.

His mother always told him to "be careful." Only, this time he wasn't 100% certain she was speaking of the plane trip.

She had been afraid for him, for about as long as he could remember. He jumped past his classmates academically, over and over again. But his interactions with them were limited as best. He only needed to hear a concept explained once to grapple with the meaning.

People were not nearly so easy to grapple with. He understood so long ago, possibly even the first time he had skipped a grade that his older classmates could be quite cruel. Even his neighborhood friends had grown not quite so friendly as soon as he had become different from them. His mother had explained, at length, the concept of jealousy.

He understood it. But he didn't have to like it. There was almost no cause for it, really. Every academic advancement put him even further away from peers his own age. Teachers tried to shelter him somewhat, but that only served to ostracize him further.

He had gotten into trouble once in one of those earliest years. One of his neighborhood friends coerced him into pulling a prank and then left him alone to take the fall. There was no denying his early creative genius in the work, although it was far more function and not enough emphasis on the form.

Unfortunately, it left him with the stark realization that friends were a luxury he couldn't afford. He could be polite to a fault, but he was only resented all the more.

Life took a much more pleasant turn once he had gotten to college. His professors were all too pleased to impart their knowledge and his earliest semesters were heavily loaded with courses. But he couldn't do his coursework without going to the library and seeing study groups and the occasional couple. It was a bit more taxing on his rapidly escalating hormones, but it was otherwise a comfort. His dealings with others were far less adversarial and more competitive. He enjoyed it, thrived on it, really.

He tried to assure himself that rest of it would come, probably when he was no longer a decade or more younger than his classmates.

Midway through his PhD program, he was approached by a SHIELD recruiter. They droned on about the perks of being inside a well-funded agency and the technologically up to date facilities. They gushed about helping to save the world, using his brilliance for good. Nearly all of the hassles of research handled (or at least ameliorated) administratively. The opportunity to learn from professors that universities couldn't even hope to retain. It all was highly complimentary, and all positives in his book. But it was not what sold the program to him.

The program would include students as young as he was. All of the joys he had seen at the collegiate level, including the potential to have friends that didn't resent him. Perhaps he'd even meet a girl who might be interested in him.

He could not possibly have been more on board, but it would take some doing to convince his Mum. He was, after all, still only 15 at the time.

Within a few months time, he had defended and published his dissertation and had returned home for a short trip after graduation. It was lovely to see his Mum. But seeing his old neighborhood only brought the whole wave of memories back: all the fears and loneliness of the boy that he had been. How from time to time he fleetingly wished he could just be "normal" like all of the other kids.

He could only stop himself short, and remind himself that he would be creating a new normal. That the young men and women he would meet would have followed similar paths, succeeding in spite of the burdens.

But it was risky. Riskier than slight anxiety the occasional plane ride always made him feel. The whole exercise was a leap of faith that hinged on the veracity of one recruiter. The SHIELD Academy was an escalator to a life-long career. The classmates he met here would be with him throughout his career as contacts. Making a good first impression would be essential. Just being polite wouldn't do.

And yet, his social skills were grossly atrophied. What if he put his foot in his mouth and offended someone who he'd need to beg help from later?

When they parted at the gate, he could only smile back at her and shoulder his burdens himself. His mother had already done so much to get him this far. He couldn't let her know how much he was worried. Not when he was leaving her all alone again.

Fitz had planned to sleep on the plane, but his anxiety wouldn't allow him even a wink. Dragging his hand over his face, he opted instead to channel that nervous energy on starting into his required course reading. He might as well use the time wisely.